


Beneath Me

by Magnetism_bind



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Class Differences, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Riding Crop, Rough Sex, Voyeurism, Whipping, fucking with riding crop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 22:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a young lord staying at his family's estate for the summer. Erik is his family's stable-hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another Kink Meme story that I'm bringing over to the archive in the hopes of being motivated to finish it at some point.

The carriage ride is long and dusty and _dull_. Charles spends the first half of it trying to sleep, and failing miserably as the carriage is jostled along the country road. It's impossible to sleep as the wheels creak and jolt with every single turn. 

He spends the second half dwelling on the fact that the entire summer is going to be wretched. Charles doesn't understand why he has to spend it at his father's country estate when all his friends are in London for the summer. It's unfair. He's bitter about the whole thing. 

Still when Lord Xavier commands, his son must grit his teeth and obey. So Charles does. 

It's been more than a year since he's stayed at the country house. It's a sprawling, comfortable estate where Charles spent many pleasant summers in his youth with his cousin Raven, playing on the grounds, swimming in the river, climbing in the orchard until they got banned for stealing apples. There are many such pleasant memories, but Charles is in no mood to revisit them. He's not a child any longer. He's at university now. He had plans to study throughout the summer, and being wrenched away from the libraries in London is rather like hell. 

Still, for some reason, a strange contentment passes over him as the carriage rounds the last curve through the trees and there, at last, stands Xavier Hall shrouded in the early evening light. Whatever else it is, it's also home. 

* * *

The carriage stops at long last, having drawn around to the side courtyard which isn't half as ostentatious as the front door. Charles breathes a sigh of relief and climbs out eagerly. He stretches, grateful to finally be standing once more. 

“Master Charles.” The butler welcomes him warmly. “Dinner's waiting for you, sir.”

“Ah, thank you.” Charles smiles awkwardly, but the butler's already turned his attention elsewhere.

“You, bring the young master's luggage up to his room.” 

Charles assumes he's talking to the carriage driver, but the man doesn't make a move get down from his seat. He glances over his shoulder and blinks. There's a young man filling buckets at the pump. He's tall and lean, lifting the full buckets easily enough. The man's clad in trousers and a smudged linen shirt, his suspenders loosely hanging down over his thighs. His shirtsleeves are rolled to his elbows as he pumps the water into the next bucket. 

“ _Erik_.” The butler says harshly. “Did you hear me, boy?”

At last the young man straightens up and turns to look at the butler. “Horses won't water themselves, now will they?” His tone is low and insolent, like he couldn't be bothered to speak up. 

“The horses can wait,” the butler says testily. “Hurry up.”

Charles just watches as the man shrugs, sets the buckets down and makes his way over to the carriage. He reaches for a suitcase as Charles follows the butler into the house.

* * *

“Your old room has been prepared for you, sir.” The butler tells Charles as he leads the way up the stairs. 

“Thank you,” Charles is still distracted by the display in the courtyard. He can't imagine his father putting up with that sort of behavior from a servant. “Please tell my father that I'll be right down.”

“Lord Xavier isn't here at the moment. He said to tell you he'd return in a few day's time.”

“Oh,” Charles feels defeated somehow. He isn't sure what he expected, but he at least expected his father to be here to... _To what? Welcome him?_ The notion is ridiculous. 

He sighs and nods. “I'd like a bath, please.”

“Right away, sir. I'll have the water sent up.” The butler goes out.

Charles discards his gloves. At least he can do away with some of society's niceties while he's here. He tugs at his collar, loosening it when there's a bump at the door. Charles barely gets it open before the stable hand is stepping inside, a suitcase in each hand. 

“He told me to bring these up.” The man looks at him then. His eyes are startlingly attractive, and for a moment Charles is lost just looking at them. 

“Oh.” Charles manages. “Put those right over there.” He gestures to the corner near the wardrobe. The stable hand carries them over and drops them on the floor without another look. “Careful,” Charles says, more sharply than he means to. His books are in there. 

The stable hand's lips twist slightly, “Sorry, sir.” It's not a title of respect coming from him. “I'll just bring up the rest.” He leaves. 

Charles has his jacket off and is working on his cufflinks by the time the man is back the second time. This time he lowers the bags to the ground slowly. 

“Thank you.” Charles says distractedly, focused on his cufflinks. He can never manage to get them unfastened. It's a wonder he ever bothers with them at all. Usually Raven's here to help, but now... He bites his lip in frustration. 

A hand touches his wrist as deft fingers work at the troublesome item. Charles is so shocked he can't breathe as the stable hand ( _damn, what was his name, Erik? Yes, Erik._ ) gets his first wrist free, and casually continues to the other. He does it calmly and efficiently. His fingers are slender and long, almost elegant... even if they are slightly dirty. The man himself smells of leather, smoke, sweat, summer air, and horses. It's a heady aroma, that for some completely inexplicable reason makes Charles's harden slightly in his trousers. 

He's embarrassed beyond measure by this and pulls away from the man as though he's been burned. “Thank you, I can manage.”

“Course you can,” Erik smiles slightly, a flash of white teeth, “I'd wager you're not as useless as you look.”

Charles feels as though he's been slapped. “How _dare_ you speak to me like that.” 

The stable hand straightens. “Apologies, sir.”

“Get out.” Charles snaps, his temper rising. 

The man leaves the room without another word. 

* * *

The footman brings up the basin and fills it with water after that. Charles soaks for as long as the water stays reasonably warm. He still can't account for the man's touching him like that, so intimately. And as for his own reaction, well. Charles rubs his hands over his face tiredly. 

He's been attracted to men before, but never quite so openly. Never so immediate. He scrubs at his face determinedly. It will not happen again. 

Charles puts on his nightshirt, and robe, and goes downstairs. He partakes of some of the food the butler's had left out for him in the silent, empty dining room. The cold beef and potatoes is well-cooked, but Charles has little appetite. Time ticks by slowly as he eats. He wishes, not for the first time, that Raven were here. 

Afterward, he ventures into his father's study and finds the man's brandy standing in its usual spot on the sideboard. At least some things never change. Charles pours a liberal amount into a glass before continuing on to the library. He peruses the shelves for a while, searching randomly for something to take his mind off the day's events. He has his textbooks of course, but tonight, Charles feels he's earned a treat. At last he selects a collection of short stories, nothing too taxing, and carries it off to his room with his brandy. 

Charles settles down under his covers comfortably and reads. From time to time he takes a sip of brandy. After a while the fatigue of the journey finally overtakes him, and he sets the book aside. Downing the last sip of brandy, he finally turns dims the lamp and goes to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning sunlight wakes Charles far earlier than he intended to rise. He lies there in bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly. His father's absence from the house has thrown him momentarily from his intention to ask him if he could return to London. And yet, it casts a certain relaxed air over the household that makes Charles feel as though his time is free of any constrictions or obligations whatsoever. It's an entirely new sensation, and one he feels certain he should take advantage of. 

Charles decides, abruptly, to go for a ride. Ringing the bell, he gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. 

“Sir?” The butler is there in the doorway.

“Have a horse saddled and ready. I wish to go for a ride.”

“Before breakfast, sir?"

"Yes," Charles says firmly. "Before breakfast."

"Very well, sir.” There's an unspoken sigh in the butler's words, but he goes all the same.

Charles finishes dressing and goes downstairs to the courtyard. The morning is fresh and crisp, the dew still fresh upon the lawn. 

His horse is waiting by the watering trough. Erik's holding the reins loosely, as he leans down to scoop up a handful of water to splash on his face. Rivulets of water trickle down his throat, dampening the collar of his shirt. He straightens up as he looks up to see Charles approaching. 

“Morning, sir.” Erik murmurs, stroking the horse's nose. 

Charles mounts without a word. He's still annoyed over the man's remark last night. 

Erik reaches up to hand over the reins. Charles's fingers brush over his as he takes them, and Erik looks up. Charles stills, caught once more by those devastating sea green eyes. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, finally pulling back. 

Erik nods, looking at him silently. He steps back, watching as Charles rides off. 

* * *

Charles rides along the familiar path beside the forest. It hasn't changed over the last year, each curve and twist the same as always. He wonders if anything has changed at all. Besides his father's inclination to hire lax servants. Try as he might, Charles can't keep his thoughts away from the stable hand for long. Whatever Charles's thinking about, whether it's his father, his career, regardless of the topic, it eventually drags him straight back to the man, like pure magnetism. 

_Damn the man. Damn his beautiful eyes._

Charles sighs and turns his mount toward town. He'll ride into town and see if it's remained the same as well. He will definitely not spend the time thinking about the stable hand. 

The village of Woodbridge has stayed exactly the same, much to Charles's disappointment. Nothing has changed. The family doctor recognizes him, waving at him in a friendly fashion as he strolls along the village lane.

Charles waves in return, but doesn't stop. Time enough for that. No doubt his father already has several social engagements lined up as soon as he returns. The mere idea makes Charles weary. 

He takes the long way home, weaving around the river instead of the forest this time. The sunshine is hot upon his shoulders, making him long to be home, settled in the quiet coolness of the library with a drink. 

As he nears the curve of the river that is a half-mile from the house, he pulls his horse up short. staring at the river There, to his astonishment, is Erik. Erik. Swimming. Naked. Each stroke shows the strength of his shoulders as he travels through the water. His body dips beneath the water and surfaces again, teasing Charles with a glimpse of the lower half of his torso. 

Charles swallows hoarsely. He shouldn't be watching this; he should be riding on and forgetting it. Or, more likely, reprimanding the man for being so brazenly disrespectful in broad daylight... Whatever thoughts Charles was having fade away just then as Erik swims over to the bank and hauls himself up out of the water. Droplets course down his body, dripping from his chest tanned from the sun, to his muscled thighs, lean and strong like the rest of him. He's the most attractive thing Charles has seen in a long time. And the fact that he's so shameless with his body, as he stands there in the sunlight, reaching for his shirt. It makes Charles's breeches tighten as his cock stirs enthusiastically. He shifts slightly in his seat, attempting to ease his discomfort, and his horse idiotically takes this as encouragement to step forward into view. 

Erik pauses in the process of drying the back of his neck with his shirt. He watches silently as Charles approaches.

Charles doesn't know what to say, but he's desperately aware he should be saying something. “Anyone can see you from the road,” is what he comes up with at last. 

Erik commences drying himself again. “So they can.” Apparently he's not bothered by this. His cock's definitely not bothered, Charles can tell. Christ, he should not be staring at the man's cock. But it's right there in front of him, and it's practically begging to be touched. He wonders what it would feel like, to wrap his fingers around Erik's length and stroke him.

Charles swallows. “Remember that next time.” He says curtly. 

Erik pulls his shirt on, before turning his back to reach for his breeches. Oh lord, his ass. Charles is going to the devil for openly ogling his half-naked servant. The man's practically presenting it to him as he pulls his trousers on. Two perfect pale globes, begging to be held, palmed, bitten. Charles is sweating profusely as he sits there atop his horse, but it's not the heat of the sun that's bothering him. Finally, the unbearable perfection of Erik's ass is covered once more and Charles can breathe again at last.

“Are you saying I should mind when I swim, to make sure none of the villagers catch me bare-arsed, or,” Erik pauses, squinting up at Charles thoughtfully, “are you telling me to invite you along next time if there's no one around to catch you?”

“Don't make outlandish suggestions,” Charles says icily. Really, the man's insolence is unpardonable.

Erik shrugs. “I was only asking.” 

“What I was trying to say,” Charles takes a deep breath, “is if it had been my father riding along just now, you'd be sacked without a reference. I trust I make myself clear.”

Erik straightens up, the insouciant slant to his shoulders gone. “Perfectly, sir.” His voice is serious as he looks up at Charles. 

“Good,” Charles nods at him and rides on. He can feel the man's gaze following him long after he's ridden out of sight.

* * *

Charles rides back at the house more quickly than is probably good for his horse. He dismounts, and pauses for a second, leaning his forehead against the horse's flank. It's a relief to be out of the sun at last. The damn stable hand isn't here of course, so he unsaddles the horse and the animal down himself. All the while having a quiet, angry conversation with the beast.

_Never around when you need the man._

Whinny. 

_Thinks he get out of doing his work by flaunting his ass at me._

Neigh. 

The horse nickers at him softly and Charles laughs to himself. “I know, I know. It isn't very gentlemanly of me to talk like this, but the man infuriates me so.” The horse, Charles really should know its name, just whinnies. Charles pats its neck and goes inside. 

There's a trail of sweat down his back, damp and uncomfortable. As soon as he's safely in his own room, he strips down to his drawers and falls upon the bed with a sigh of relief. The room is still too warm. He feels lethargic, sticky and damp with sweat. He should have one of the servants bring up water for a bath, but he's too lazy at the moment. Charles closes his eyes and lets the heat seep over him. 

_Erik cutting broad strokes through the glistening water. Erik, standing there, the sunlight shining through his shirt, with his cock jutting out from underneath it like it has no reason to hide. Erik turning his back, as though it doesn't matter in the slightest if Charles gazes at his ass._

_His cock,_ Charles licks his lips but keeps his eyes closed, _it looked eager, bobbing hungrily, seeking attention. Hard and full, curving upward to his belly, dripping already with pre-come._

Charles's hand eases inside his drawers easily, as he keeps his eyes closed. Taking hold of himself, he strokes his cock quickly, rubbing his thumb over the slit as he thinks about earlier. Imagining it's Erik's cock, he's touching, and tugging, stroking harder and harder. It's all too easy to come simply from thinking about Erik's cock. 

As he spills over his belly, Charles sighs in the silence. He wipes his hand on his drawers and falls prey to the drowsy afternoon heat.


	3. Chapter 3

Charles wakes at last to the sound of someone knocking at the door. It feels like hours later. He's sticky and tired, and wishes the person at the door would just go away. 

“Yes?” Charles sits up, looking at his hand in disgust. He needs a wash.

“Sir, dinner is ready,” the butler's voice comes through the door. 

“I'll be down in a moment.” Charles pushes himself to his feet. He'll wash and change and then dinner. 

“Your father is waiting.”

“What?” Charles stops dead in the middle of the room. 

“Your father arrived a little over an hour ago, sir. He's waiting dinner.”

“Oh, damn.” Charles stumbles over to the basin and starts washing hurriedly. His head aches from being out in the in the sun, and he's still sweaty and sticky. He washes his face and arms hurriedly, puts on clean drawers and dresses as quickly as possible. 

It's not soon enough for his father of course, who eyes him disapprovingly as he sinks into his seat. 

“Your cravat is crooked, Charles.”

Charles straightens it automatically. “Sir.”

There's silence as they begin the meal. Charles wonders where his father was, and why he came back early, and when is the right moment to broach the subject of him returning to London for the rest of the summer. He watches his father carefully as he cuts his meat. 

“Did you have a good trip?”

“Tolerable.” His father takes a sip of wine. “Charles, while you're here over the summer, I expect you to be prompt for meals. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly, sir.” Charles says automatically. He feels as though he's twelve again and about to be punished for coming to the table with dirty hands. “Sir, I,”

“I also expect you to lend a hand in helping me oversee the estate. The tenants in the hill cottage are behind on their rent. They need to pay, or be evicted. The wall to the north field needs repairing. The gardener will see to that, but the man can be terribly idle if left alone, so you'll have to watch him. And then,”

“I'd like to talk to you about that,” Charles gets in.

“Yes?”

“About me staying for the whole of the summer.”

“What is it, Charles?” His father takes another sip of wine, waiting.

'”It's just...I thought I'd get more studying done if I were in London for the summer, what with the proximity to the libraries and all, and if I want to keep my studies up,” he trails off. The look his father's giving him is not hopeful. 

“Charles, you're only at the university because it's what your mother wished you to do. When your studies are done, you'll still be inheriting the title and estate, so it matters very little how you do at them.”

Heat floods Charles's cheeks, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. It won't do any good to speak up, but he can't bear the thought of being here all summer. His father's continuing like he hasn't just crushed his son's hopes. “Besides, you need to be here for the summer, so that I can get the marriage contract completely settled.”

Charles freezes. He must have heard wrong. “Pardon me?”

“It's high time you were married, Charles. I've been in discussion with a few acquaintances with suitable daughters. I can assure you that I will find you a good match by the end of the summer.”

“But I don't...” Charles stutters into silence. He can't believe this. 

“Yes, Charles?”

“I don't want to get married.” Charles blurts out. 

He has his father's full attention now. Unfortunately, that's never a pleasant thing. “It hardly matters, Charles. You'll get married, and you'll settle down. Is that understood?”

Charles is silent. His hands are clenched tightly against his thighs. He's afraid if he speaks, he'll never be able to stop. 

“Charles?” There's a sharp note in his father's voice. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Charles's voice is barely above a whisper.

The meal is finished in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Charles is so furious he can barely eat. He chokes down a few mouthfuls. The food has no taste in his mouth. The way his father simply just informed him he'd be getting married. This is how it will be, so there's no point discussing it. It's the way his father's always been. He should never have expected anything else. 

“If I may be excused,” he says at last, “I think I'll go for a walk before retiring.”

His father barely nods in acknowledgment. Charles goes out into the corridor. His hands are trembling with rage. The unfairness of it takes his breath away. 

He stands in the courtyard, trying to breathe calmly, but there's only despair welling up inside him. His attention is caught by the figure standing outside the stables. Erik is having a smoke in the twilight. He looks across the cobblestones at Charles. It's hard to discern his expression in the dusk, but there's no mistaking the casual disrespect in the man's stance. Charles crosses the courtyard before he's aware that he even intends to approach the man.

“You could start a fire with that.”

“I haven't yet.” Erik points out. He's well away from the stable door, but a stray piece of straw, a bit of sacking, anything could catch easily and the whole of the stables would go up in flames.

“Put it out,” Charles commands. 

Erik looks at him, and says “I'd like to see you make me.” He blows a perfect smoke ring up into the night air.

Calmly, Charles takes the cigarette from his fingers and tosses it in the horse's trough. 

“That was my last one,” Erik looks at him indignantly.

“Good.” Charles says. His doesn't feel as triumphant as he'd hoped. Erik's just glaring at him, his fists clenched, but not making a move. The man's unwilling to be the first one to cross the line physically. More than willing to do so with his words, Charles thinks bitterly. Wait, that's not true. He'd touched Charles first with the cufflinks. Erik started this.

“If I catch you smoking near the stables again, I'll,”

“You'll what?” Erik leans in insolently. 

Charles punches him, or he would have if Erik hadn't caught the blow, propelling him back into the stables. They wrestle awkwardly across the stable floor. Erik gets a blow in, but Charles blocks the next one. They roll over the floor, grasping and pulling at each other. 

Erik lands on top the second time. He pins Charles to the floor, nudging a leg between his legs, pressing his knee to Charles's crotch warningly. Charles stills beneath him, panting. Erik's breath is ragged in the silent stable. They stare at each other and everything goes still around them. In this instant, Charles knows Erik is everything he can never have, someone he can want simply because he wants them. Everything his father loathes and wants to keep him from.

So in a moment of desperate childish rebellion, Charles does the unthinkable. He reaches up to kiss Erik, whose mouth moves open in startled surprise, but then he kisses back. Charles's mouth is wet and eager as it devours Erik's. Their tongues meet and dance, caressing each other heatedly.

The knee on his crotch is still there, Charles rubs against it automatically, trying not to groan as he does. Then it shifts and Erik's hand is there instead, palming him through his trousers.

“Eager for it, aren't you?” Erik's amused. 

Charles glares at him. “Shut up.” He doesn't want to hear the man's words. He wants only his body: hands, mouth, and cock. 

“You think I'm not?” Erik whispers, pressing down to grind against Charles. He's just as hard, just as hungry. Charles decides then and there what he wants. He arches up against Erik, rutting against his hand. Erik bites at his neck, tasting his skin. Then they're up somehow, standing, clothes disheveled, mouths flushes as they look at each other. Charles looks around, trying to figure out where...

“Last stall's empty.” Erik tells him, running a hand through his hair.

“Good.” Charles says bluntly. If there wasn't a more private place, he's not entirely sure he wouldn't have fucked Erik right there in the middle of the stable floor.

The stall is indeed empty, save for a pile of grain sacks. Erik nods at it. “Too rough for you?”

Charles reaches for him. “Not enough.” He gets Erik's trousers open enough for his hand to slip inside. Erik's eyes widen a little as Charles touches him, sliding his fist around the man's length. 

“How're we doing this then?” Erik asks, surprisingly matter-of-fact for a man whose cock is already thrusting eagerly in Charles's fist.

Charles toys with the idea of letting the man....but, no. “How do you think?”

Erik's eyes lose a little of their warmth and for a second, Charles assumes that he's ruined it. 

“I figured you wouldn't.” Erik says carelessly. “But I have a condition.”

“Oh?” Charles is amused by this.

“You want to fuck me, so fuck me. But first,” Erik smiles, “Suck me off.”

A surge of indignant surprise goes through Charles's mind, that the man should think he can just make Charles do that. All the same, he likes the feel of Erik's cock in his hand, likes the way Erik looks as Charles strokes him. He likes the thought of surprising Erik, so without another word Charles kneels gracefully. The look in Erik's eyes is worth any embarrassment. Slowly, Charles draws Erik's cock out of his trousers. He looks up at Erik speculatively, before licking a long, wet stripe along the shaft. 

Erik leans against the stall, watching Charles silently. Charles has done this before, once, for a boy he knew at school, who did it to him first. He remembers how it was, the feel of a cock sliding across his tongue, the way he has to relax his muscles so he doesn't choke. But this, somehow, doing it to Erik is better. His cock is so eager, so...Charles can't describe it. He tongues at the slit, making Erik arch into his mouth with a moan. Charles licks all around the head, before closing his lips over it, drawing Erik into the heat of his mouth. Erik thrusts a little harder as Charles cups his balls.

Erik leans his head back, just watching the young lord on his knees taking his cock. “Never dreamed you would.” He murmurs as his fingers thread through Charles's hair. 

Charles grins around his cock before pulling off wetly to look up at Erik. “Goes to show you, doesn't it?”

“What does?” Erik's eyes are still focused on his mouth.

“You're as stupid as you look.” 

Erik throws his head back and laughs. It's a sound that causes a curious satisfaction in Charles's breast. “Fortunately, you're not as useless.”

Charles snorts in amusement, before returning to the task at hand. He licks around the head again, delicately this time, using little flicks of his tongue, loving the way Erik's straining for his mouth, so desperate, so needy. He looks up at Erik once more, and then takes him all the way in. Gagging a little as he maneuvers the cock down his throat, he soon falls into a bobbing rhythm. The way Erik's moaning is worth it. 

Somewhere above him Erik is saying his name like a confessor saying his rosary, as fingers pull tightly at Charles's hair. Then he's coming fast and hot, spilling down Charles's throat in a rush. Charles hadn't planned on this, but it's swallow or choke, so he swallows. Then he sits back, wiping his mouth. Erik just looks at him, dazed, his cock hangs spent between his legs.

“Right then,” Charles stands. “Hands and knees.” 

He's going to enjoy this.


	5. Chapter 5

Astonishingly, Erik does as he's told for once, kneeling down on the sacking and presenting his ass to Charles. Charles kneels behind him, pulling the man's trousers all way down to his thighs. Erik's ass is paler than the rest of him. Charles rests his palm on one cheek, enjoying the feel of it. He squeezes it gently before parting Erik's cheeks to examine his hole. Pink and eager and tight. Charles brushes a finger across it, loving the way Erik tenses when he does. He's going to enjoy this quite a bit.

“Are you going to look at it, or fuck it?” Erik growls. 

For that Charles sticks the tip of his fingers straight in, making Erik whimper slightly.

“I'll fuck you when I want to fuck you,” Charles says calmly. He pushes a little further inside Erik's ass, knowing it must hurt just a little. Erik's clenching against his finger deliciously, his body protesting the intrusion. Charles pulls it out and spits on his hand. It'll have to do. This time, he pushes two spit-slicked fingers inside Erik who arches back against the burn. 

“More.”

“More,” Charles echos. He thrusts the fingers harder, searching for the spot that will make Erik's knees tremble. He does that twice more till Erik is gasping, instead of talking. Then he spits again, rubbing his palm over his cock. 

Erik tenses at the first push against his hole, but Charles grips his hips, and thrusts in slowly, past the tight ring of muscle, further and further until he's buried inside Erik.

Erik's hips push backward, meeting Charles's thrust. “Don't stop there.”

“I had no intention of doing so.” Charles says, irked. 

“Good.” Erik mutters. 

Charles gives a quick thrust, just to get the feel of it. Oh god, Erik's ass was meant for his cock. 

“Thought you were going to ride me.” Erik murmurs. 

Charles grabs his hair as he pulls almost all the way out, then slamming back inside Erik once more. Charles does this until they're both gasping, and he's just fucking into Erik at a steady rhythm, watching his cock thrust in and out of Erik's hole. Sweat's trickling down Erik's back, his knees are spread wide as he bucks back against Charles. He's got one hand bracing himself, the other's between his legs, stroking himself off in time with Charles's thrusts. Charles can feel it when he comes, his whole body shuddering. It pushes Charles over the edge and it's all he can do to stop himself from shouting aloud to the night as he spills inside Erik, filling the man with his come.

When Erik finally goes still under him, Charles withdraws to fall over on his back, panting. He's limp and exhausted, and _alive_ , more so than he's ever felt in his entire life. He hasn't even fastened his trousers yet. He doesn't want to move.

* * *

Erik's laying to his left, an arm casually propped behind his head. He's smoking. Charles blinks. 

“Thought I told you not to do that.” Charles isn't sure if he means to reprimand the man or not. He only knows the words come out lazy and sated. Erik grins. 

“That what you're calling it?” He blows a smoke ring up into the air. “Guess you'll just have to tell me again sometime.”

The certainty in his voice makes Charles want to slap him, for taking him for granted, for simply assuming there'd be a next time, but all he says is, “More than likely.” He pushes himself up with a yawn. It's getting late, he should go in. Charles looks down at Erik, lying there in the dim glow of the lantern. He doesn't want to go. He's half tempted to stay, but that would be worse. 

“What made you change your mind?” Erik asks idly. 

“What?”

“Earlier you'd have none of me and now all of a sudden you were hot for it.”

Charles gets to his feet. “It has nothing to do with you.” He refastens his trousers, and stands, brushing the straw from his clothes. 

“It has a little something.” Erik says pointedly. 

Charles doesn't respond as he steps out of the stall and goes to the door. There's no one in sight. He looks back at Erik, who's leaning over the stall wall watching him. 

“If you speak of this to anyone...”

“Who would I tell?” Erik raises his eyebrows.

“Good.” Charles turns on his heel and leaves. 

Now he really needs a wash, but it's far too late to have the servants draw a bath. His father would want to know why he was making such a fuss. So Charles strips down and goes to bed smelling of the stables, the night air, and Erik.


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning it occurs to Charles that if his father ever discovers that he's fucking a servant, he'll be livid. It'd be bad enough if it was a housemaid, but the stable hand? Charles shudders at the thought of his father's displeasure. It's all too easy to picture. It should make him stay away from Erik. It should make Charles take care that nothing like last night ever happens again. 

It should _not_ make him get dressed, skip breakfast and head to the stables. 

Erik's currying the chestnut mare when Charles enters. He glances up, pauses for a moment and then continues. 

“Thought I'd go for a ride.” Charles says casually.

Erik nods, but says nothing. He's silent as he saddles the horse. _Treading carefully_ , Charles thinks. Perhaps Erik has also realized the possible consequences of their actions. 

“There's a stile near the river path.” Charles remarks as though he's telling Erik the sky is blue.

“I know it.” Erik waits, his eyes curious. 

“Good.” Charles reaches for the reins. “Wait for me there.” He swings up into the saddle. 

The slow, half-startled smile that spreads over Erik's face does nothing to him. _Nothing at all_ , Charles tells himself blithely. 

* * *

Charles rides through the woods, enjoying the early morning breeze. He takes his time, but eventually turns his mount down the river path. When he's in view of the stile, for a moment he thinks Erik didn't come. Disappointment settles over Charles like a damp shirt. He'd really thought...

And then Charles sees him, leaning against the fence, tossing his cap lazily in the air. Charles swings down from the saddle, ties the reins loosely to the fence. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, his cock is already aching between his legs. 

“Here now,” Erik starts but that's as far as he gets because Charles is kissing him, his mouth hot on Erik's. His fingers pull at Erik's shirt. Charles wants to feel skin under his fingertips. 

Erik's half laughing, half kissing him. Charles should care, but he doesn't. He pulls Erik's shirt open, wide enough for him to be able to bite at Erik's throat before pressing his open mouth wetly to Erik's chest. Now Erik isn't laughing, no, he's half groaning under the assault of Charles's mouth on his bare skin. 

“Come on,” Erik manages, “Come on.”

Charles pushes him up against the steps of the stile. Erik hits the step with a thump, grinning up at Charles. “I like you like this.” He tells Charles appreciatively. 

“Shut up and turn round,” Charles pants. He's got his trousers open at last, cock out. He runs his hand down the length of it, priming himself. Erik complies, dragging his trousers down over his hips before he kneels on the middle step. One of these days Charles wants to watch the man's face as he fucks him. But not today. 

Today he wants just this. Barely any spit on his cock as he pushes the head against Erik's hole. He doesn't bother with fingers, not today. Erik hisses at the first thrust, but then he's pushing back against Charles, ass begging for more. Charles sinks into the tight delicious heat of Erik's hole, savoring the feeling of it. His hands pull at Erik's thighs, pushing his trousers down further. Skin, he wants skin. Erik's thighs are well-muscled, covered with fine hairs that Charles wants to rub his face against and cover with kisses. He wants to touch all of Erik, examine his body in great detail until he knows it inside and out. His hand moves to fist Erik's cock, tugging it roughly. Erik's moaning aloud. 

Charles pulls at his hair, making Erik turn his head so that Charles can suck at his neck. Then his mouth is on Erik's and they're kissing, tongue and teeth, as they fuck right there on the stile where anyone who chanced along could see. Erik's cock strains, thrusting needily through Charles's fingers, and then he's coating Charles's hand with his come. Erik gasps as his body still moves against Charles's. Charles's hand slips down to cup his balls. He rubs his knuckles over overly sensitive flesh, causing Erik to cry out. Charles comes at last, riding out every last swell of his orgasm until he's spent and gasping, resting his head on the back of Erik's neck.

* * *

Charles slips out of Erik, stepping back from the stile. He cleans himself off, cock and hand, with his handkerchief before refastening his trousers.

Erik straightens up, wincing slightly. “I'll feel that for a few days.” He pulls his trousers up, eying Charles as he does. 

“Good.” Charles murmurs. He likes the image of Erik, sore with remembering the stretch of Charles's cock throughout his day. The very thought of it sends a fresh surge of lust to his groin.

Erik buttons his shirt. “You kiss well enough for a lord's son at any rate.”

Charles slaps him automatically. The blow leaves a flat red imprint on Erik's cheek. 

“Now look here,” Charles steps closer into Erik's space. “I want your body, not your mind, such as it is. I want your mouth, not your words. So keep any such thoughts you have to yourself. Is that clear?”

Erik slaps him back casually. The sting of it takes Charles's breath away. No servant has ever dared touch him in such a fashion. 

“I'll say what I like,” Erik says bluntly. “You want the use of my body,” He shrugs, “All right then, but if you _ever_ ,”

“Shut up!” Charles spits thickly. 

Erik's jaw tightens. In an instant he's pulling Charles closer by his collar, dragging him in for a harsh, bruising kiss. The force of it, the rough drag of Erik's tongue on his leaves Charles gasping for air, let alone thought. 

“Admit it,” Erik whispers. “You like the way I kiss.”

“It's not entirely without its merits.” Charles murmurs. Erik's hand moves between his legs, cupping his spent cock, teasing him. “I...like your mouth.” He _does_. He likes Erik's mouth far more than he should, and it hasn't even touched his cock yet.

“That's fair.” Erik strokes him, “I like yours.” He leans in to pull at Charles's lower lip with his teeth. “I want to fuck you."

The words make Charles's skin hot all over. He _can't_...but, oh god, the thought of it cause his knees to turn weak. He'll never get Erik to obey him if he lets him, but Charles wants it all the same. 

“You'll have to earn it.” The words are as much a surprise to him as they are to Erik. 

“What if I took you right here,” Erik murmurs. “On your knees in the grass, that perfect ass of yours, all white and pure against the dirt.” He leans in, his eyes gazing heatedly at Charles, “What if I fucked you here here and now, you begging for my cock to fill your ass?”

“That's enough.” Charles cries out. His face is red; he can't stop picturing it. He wants, god, he wants it. It takes every last inch of his willpower to pull away from Erik and head for his horse. “Return to your duties.” He orders. 

“Yes, sir.” Erik bows his head mockingly. 

Charles's temper breaks. He grabs his riding crop from the saddle and lashes Erik across the cheek. 

Erik's head snaps back. He raises his hand to his face in surprise. His eyes are dark as he looks up at Charles as he mounts. 

“If you open your mouth once more to say anything other than “Yes, my lord," I'll whip you so hard you'll be begging for my cock instead.” Charles pushes the tip of the crop under Erik's chin, forcing his head back. “Understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. See that you're not late returning to the stables.” With that, Charles wheels his horse around and rides off.


	7. Chapter 7

The rest of the day passes in a slow, dull haze. The duties Lord Xavier has assigned to Charles are monotonous. He's bored to tears as he oversees the supposedly idle gardener mending the fence. He can't help replaying the morning's events while pretending to pay attention. Charles doesn't know what he wants more, for Erik to continue his insolence, so that Charles can punish him, or for Erik to behave and prove that Charles can control him. Occasionally at least.

When he thinks of Erik's words, his cock stirs instantly. Charles wants it. His father would despise that even more, his son spreading his legs for a servant. Charles knows this to be true. And he knows, for good or for bad, that's helped decide the matter. He'll let Erik fuck him. But not just yet. Let the man sweat a while longer. 

At dinner that night, the meal is silent except when Lord Xavier remarks upon some topic and Charles murmurs a response. He pushes a piece of ham across his plate, wondering if his father would notice if he threw it across the room. At last Lord Xavier pats his mouth with his napkin and pushes his chair back.

“Fetch the stable hand in.” His father interrupts Charles's silent sigh of relief as the servants clear away the plates. 

“What?” Charles starts. His father can't have discovered them. He wouldn't have been so bloody calm all through dinner. Unless he was waiting for Charles to confess. Guilt coils in Charles's stomach, making him queasy. 

“I wish to speak to him about the horses.” His father gazes at him disapprovingly. “Don't dally, Charles. Fetch him into the study.” He strides ahead.

“Sir.” Charles goes out. He tells the butler to fetch Erik. He doesn't want to venture into the stable just now. Instead he joins his father in the study. 

Erik's rap is quick at the study door. 

“Enter,” Lord Xavier moves to the sideboard where he keeps his liquor. 

Charles sits back, enjoying the sight of Erik here amongst his father's private lair. Erik stands uneasily in the middle of the room. He's out of place with his rough clothes and dirty hands. The scent of leather and horses follows him. Yet the force of his presence is undeniable. Charles can't deny the _pull_ he feels, even here, right under his father's nose. 

“What happened to your face?” Lord Xavier pours himself a glass of port. 

“A branch caught it earlier, my lord.” Erik says, carefully not looking at Charles. 

“Hmph, well, then. We shall be attending the Shaw hunt this coming weekend. We'll need the horses well exercised in preparation. See that you measure their feed carefully. Don't want them getting bloated.”

“Yes, my lord.” Erik waits to be dismissed, but Xavier's gaze has moved to his son.

“Shaw's ward, Lady Emma, will attending the hunt. We've considered pairing the two of you before the hunt is over.” He takes a sip of port. “She can ride damn well they say. Maybe she can teach you to keep your seat better.”

“Very well, sir.” Charles keeps his hands flat on the arms of his chair. He knows Erik is watching this, but he refuses to acknowledge his gaze. 

“You can go, the both of you.” Xavier dismisses them without another glance. 

Erik follows Charles out into the hall. For a second there's only silence, heavy and awkward between them. 

“Is that the way of it then?” Erik's voice is soft. 

Charles glares at him. “I told you.”

“So you did.” Erik leans in, his mouth grazing Charles's jaw, kissing him right there in his father's hallway. 

Charles pulls away. “Stables. Now.”

* * *

The walk to the stables takes too long. Charles reaches for his riding crop as soon as he enters it. Erik's waiting, eyes dancing with anticipation with what is to come.

“Shirt off, trousers down.” Charles orders. Erik obeys readily enough. As his skin is revealed, Charles swallows painfully over the rush of lust in his throat. “Bend over the bench.”

For the first time, there's a touch of embarrassment in Erik's face. Still, he obeys, if rather slowly. 

“Hands on the ground.”

Erik rests his palms flat on the stable floor. His ass is displayed splendidly over the bench. Charles moves in, kicking his legs further apart. He thinks of how he fucked Erik this morning and brings the crop down across Erik's bare ass. Erik grunts, but doesn't cry out. There's a lovely red stripe against the paleness of his skin. Charles admires it, then adds another. He studies the way Erik's hips jerk forward with each blow, then tense in readiness for the next. Charles glances between his legs. Erik's hard, already leaking slightly, his pre-come dripping to the stable floor. 

“Looks as though I'm not the only one enjoying this.” Charles lays another blow. 

This time Erik doesn't stop himself from groaning low in his throat. “Please.”

“You know full well when it will stop.” Charles tells him. “When you beg for my cock.”

Erik grimaces, but another blow across his already sensitive ass makes him whimper. “Please, sir.”

“Yes?” Charles hits him across the thighs just for variety. 

Erik moans. “Your, cock, fuck, just...”

“How badly do you want it?” Charles brings the crop down again.

“Enough that I'm begging,” Erik grits out. Charles laughs. He lands another blow before walking around to stand in front of Erik. 

“Open up.” Erik does so reluctantly. Charles slips the tip of his riding crop inside, resting it lightly on Erik's tongue. “Suck it.”

Erik's glaring at him; he knows what Charles is planning, but he does it anyway. Finally Charles pulls the crop from his mouth and returns to his former position. Parting Erik's reddened cheeks, Charles pushes the tip of the riding crop just inside his hole. Erik hisses sharply between his teeth, his hands pushing at the floor in a vain effort to steady himself. Charles pushes the crop further, forcing another whimper from Erik's tongue. 

Charles reaches down between Erik's legs to take hold of his balls. “Stroke yourself off, do it.” 

Erik's breath sounds forced, and ragged, but his hand reaches down to ease over his shaft. His rhythm is awkward, his fingers brushing against Charles's as Charles caresses his balls lightly, squeezing tenderly. Erik's moans are louder as Charles fucks him with the riding crop. It doesn't take long at all. Erik comes with a faint cry, his balls tightening in Charles's hand as he spills shamelessly over his own fingers. 

Charles pulls the crop out of him, and walks around to face Erik once more. Erik looks up at him. There's sweat on his brow, and his cheeks are warm with lust. 

“Clean it off.” Charles holds the crop out. Erik licks it tentatively, his eyes still on Charles. His tongue rasps over the leather bit. “There,” Charles says at last. He hangs the crop up and cricks his neck slightly. 

Erik stands slowly. _He'll be even more sore tomorrow_ , Charles wagers with no certain amount of personal satisfaction. 

“Will you be wanting to ride in the morning, sir?” Erik asks at last. His tone is respectful, but his eyes look at Charles like they're a storm waiting to unleash its thunder. 

“Yes,” Charles smiles. “Have my horse ready.” 

“As you please.” Erik murmurs. 

Charles leans in. “You'll dream of me tonight, won't you?” He cups one of Erik's cheeks, squeezing. Erik moans delightfully, lips parting in a mix of pain and pleasure. Charles can't deny himself a final kiss. He slides his hands over Erik's ass, pulling him closer as his mouth claims Erik's.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles leaves Erik standing there in the stables and goes back into the house. Once safely away in his bedroom, he strips off all his clothes and falls into bed naked. There's a slow satisfied sort of heat spreading all over his body. God, it had been tempting to just toss his crop away and fill the delicious hole of Erik's with his own cock. 

Even now his cock stirs, wanting it. Charles groans lazily and rolls over to lie on his stomach. If he had any strength, he'd just rub against the sheets, but he's too tired even for that. His cock will have to wait. His father's words from earlier return to his mind and Charles buries his head under a pillow, drawing the coverlet up over him. Those aren't the only words haunting him though.

_I want to fuck you..._

He closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

* * *

It's late. The house is still, bathed in the silence of sleep. Yet something rouses Charles from his dreams. He blinks in the darkness. There's something's tickling along the inside of his thigh. It's nothing worth moving for, only soft whispering brushes along his skin. He doesn't stir. The touch doesn't go away though, tracing lightly over his body. Charles stretches slightly, but that doesn't stop it either. Now the touch is ghosting over his ass, still barely there. It's a dream...but then the touch dips between his cheeks.

Charles opens his eyes as the bed creaks softly. 

“I think maybe it's you dreaming of me.” Erik's voice is there at his ear. Charles freezes. He wants to turn and flip the man off of him, but Erik's fingers are gliding over the intimate skin, right down to his hole, stroking across it lightly. 

“I like finding you like this,” Erik murmurs. “As though you're waiting for me...” The tip of his forefinger traces around Charles's entrance. 

Charles tenses. He wants this; oh god, he wants it. Yet at the time, he's afraid of what it will mean, what Erik will do if Charles lets him touch him like this. 

Erik's hand withdraws, resting on his thigh. “Tell me to go.” 

The words startle Charles into speech. “What?” He half turns on his side to look up at Erik. 

“If you tell me to go, I will.” Erik says this softly, watching Charles's face carefully in the shadows of the room. 

Charles sits up in bed. Erik's just sitting there beside him, eyes bright in the dark. Hesitantly, Charles raises his hand to to trace the line of Erik's jaw. “Now why would I tell you that?” 

Drawing Erik in for a kiss is the easiest thing in the world.

* * *

Charles draws Erik down among the covers, kissing him fiercely. He's completely naked and Erik is still dressed, smelling of the night air and the woods. Charles nips at Erik's mouth hungrily. 

“Take your clothes off.” He pulls at Erik's collar hurriedly. “Off.” 

Erik sits back, fumbling with his trousers. He kicks them off onto the floor, then pulls his shirt over his head. Charles reaches out to touch his cock and Erik stills, letting him. Charles drags his hand over Erik's length, looking up at him. 

“Well?” 

“Well, what?” Erik asks. 

“Are you going to fuck me or what?” Charles loves the way Erik's face looks at this moment. Surprised and pleased and eager, as his cock is swelling in Charles's grasp. He gives it a little squeeze and sits back, waiting. 

Erik sits back, resting his hands on his knees. “I....” He half-laughs. “Didn't really think you'd let me...”

“Well, I haven't yet.” Charles points out. 

“But you didn't tell me to go.” 

“No,” Charles admits, hiding a smile. “That's true.” 

Erik leans in. “What am I supposed to call you?” 

It's on the tip of Charles's tongue to say, 'Sir,' like he should. But...here, in the dark of his bedroom, with Erik naked beside him...it feels different. 

“Call me Charles.” He says softly. 

Erik cups his chin, letting his thumb caress the curve of Charles's lower lip. “Charles...”

“Yes?”

“I'm going to fuck you now.” Erik kisses him then slow and sure and confident, his tongue possessing Charles's mouth like it's always belonged to him. When he pulls away finally, his breath is ragged. 

Charles blinks, trying to regain himself. "I...yes..." He licks his lips in anticipation. “Oh, wait,” Leaning over to his bedside table, he he reaches into the drawer where he has some oil. He holds out the bottle. 

Erik takes it speculatively. “You've done this before...right?”

Charles flushes, but nods. “Yes...but I was a lot younger...” Maybe this is a mistake. He can still tell Erik to get out of his bedroom. If the stable hand laughs at him, he'll...

But instead of laughing, Erik smiles. It's not teasing, it's not cruel, it's not mean-spirited in any way. It leaves Charles breathless, this beautiful wide smile on Erik's lips.


	9. Chapter 9

“Turn over.” Erik whispers, laying a hand on Charles's hip. Charles obliges, settling himself on his stomach. “Here.” Erik pushes a pillow under Charles's hips, positioning him more comfortably. Charles opens his mouth in surprise and then shuts it again. 

Erik opens the oil, pouring some over his fingers. Charles lies there, waiting as Erik's slick finger probes him cautiously, taking his time. It's embarrassing how much care the stable hand is taking with his body. Charles has never been this gentle with him. He's glad his face is hidden in the dark. It's red with shame and annoyance and lust. 

“I'm not made of glass.” He mutters petulantly. 

Erik moves his finger and Charles _gasps_.

“I know that well enough.” Erik moves his finger again and Charles moans in a very undignified manner. His father would definitely disapprove. He wants more though, more, even now. 

It doesn't take long for Erik to press two fingers inside, making Charles writhe beneath him. 

“You're tight.” Erik murmurs, scissoring his fingers slightly. 

“Too tight?” Charles asks, trying not to sound anxious. 

“Perfect. Just the way you are.” Erik leans down to press his lips to the curve of Charles's ass. “With a little work, you will be the best fuck I've ever had.”

“Oh?” Charles tries not to think about how many that could possibly be. He doesn’t want to be the high born piece of ass Erik manages to get his cock into, doesn't want to wind up in a tale told in a tavern over drinks. But he does want Erik, and that's what keeps him there in the bed, waiting. 

“Relax.” Erik strokes him once, teasing his prostate, before withdrawing his fingers. 

The first press of his cock to Charles's hole makes Charles inhale softly. “You...” He cuts himself off.

“What?” 

“You feel bigger than you look.” Charles cringes. Erik looks large enough to begin with, no need to flatter the man unnecessarily. 

Erik just chuckles. “Relax.” His hand squeezes Charles's hip, almost affectionately. And while Charles is pondering that, Erik pushes inside. 

“Oh, god.” Charles grabs the headboard without thinking. 

“There.” Erik nudges further, gripping him by the hips. 

Charles feels like he's being split in two, in a glorious way. He has done this before, but as he told Erik, it had been a while, and...well, the man at the time had not been the best lover. Charles had been infatuated, and it hadn't mattered at the time. But now, feeling the way Erik is moving inside him, filling him more and more with each perfect thrust...Charles knows his former lover was as inept as they come. 

Erik's urging him up on his knees, and Charles just goes with it. He's still holding on to the headboard as Erik fucks him. 

For some reason, Charles starts giggling.

Erik stills inexplicably. “Something's amusing you.” 

“Nothing.” Charles tries to stop, but he _can't_.

“Tell me.” Erik's thumb strokes his hip and Charles gives in.

“I was thinking...of my father's face if he found us like this.”

Erik's silent for a moment, and then he snorts with laughter, before leaning in, pressing further into Charles, even as he kisses him on the neck. Charles angles his head so their lips can meet, awkwardly as Erik fucks him steadily. 

“You feel so good.” Erik kisses the words along Charles's lips. 

“Your cock is....astounding.” Charles says the words without even thinking about it. 

Erik's soft laughter brushes the tip of his ear. “You...Charles...you.”

“Say it again.” Charles arches back against him. “Say my name.”

“ _Charles_.” Erik moans his name into his hair. 

Charles is up on all fours, rutting back against Erik like a dog in heat. He doesn't care. There _is_ heat between them, Erik makes him desperate for this, and he doesn't _care_. He doesn't care so much, it's bewildering. He just wants _this_. Here. Now. He doesn't want to think about what his father was talking about earlier. He wants Erik. And Erik wants him. It's enough, it's more than enough for now. 

Erik reaches around to take Charles in hand, stroking him roughly as his own orgasm overtakes him. He spills into Charles with a half-smothered moan, his breath hot on the back of Charles's neck. Charles's head sinks between his shoulders as his cock is worked to completion by Erik's nimble fingers. 

At last they collapse on the bed in a heap. Erik's still inside Charles, softening slowly. His hand strokes Charles's hip lazily, as though he's unconscious of the action. Charles is sweaty and sore and exhilarated, his mind humming with pleasure. 

Erik pulls out of him slowly, his hand still on Charles's hip. 

“I should,”

Charles's hand is on his mouth before he can finish his sentence. “Stay.” 

“Are you sure?” Erik murmurs. 

Charles rolls over to straddle Erik, leaning down to kiss the surprised man. “Stay.”

Erik stays.


	10. Chapter 10

Charles stirs sleepily. The first breath of morning is whispering through the curtains. He rolls over and meets warm skin. He blinks, opening his eyes to see Erik sleeping beside him still. Naked. 

Right. Charles studies the man's sleeping form, remembering how it felt to be fucked by him. Erik moves slightly in his sleep, but doesn't wake. He looks younger in his sleep, vulnerable even. Charles resists the urge to brush the hair back from Erik's forehead. 

Christ, he needs to stop this before he gets too deeply invested in it. But what's the harm? It's just a fling with a servant. He can't possibly worry about getting too invested with Erik, because such a thing could never happen, obviously. Charles asks the question of himself, but has no answer. 

“It's far too early for you to be frowning like that.” Erik murmurs. He reaches up to draw Charles down for a lazy kiss, sliding his tongue inside Charles's mouth with casual familiarity. 

Charles lets himself be kissed, lets Erik slip a hand between his legs, stroking his cock. He closes his eyes as Erik's tongue works its magic, caressing his mouth. He hardens quickly enough.

“Charles.” Erik pulls on Charles's lower lip with his teeth.

Charles slips his hand around the back of Erik's neck, holding him close as they kiss. His breath comes faster as Erik teases him mercilessly, cupping his balls. He opens his mouth, and...

...there's a knock at the door. “Sir?”

“Just a minute!” Charles yelps. He pushes Erik off the bed hurriedly. “Get out, now.” 

Erik hits the floor with a thump. “Ow.”

“Master Charles?”

“Wait a minute!” Charles hisses. “Just go. How did you get up here last night anyway?”

“I climbed up the ivy.” Erik's looking for his trousers. The sight is quite distracting and for a moment, Charles almost forgets the situation at hand.

Another sharp rap at the door reminds him. “Charles.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Charles swears. “GET OUT.” 

Erik has only a moment to dive under the bed before the door opens and Charles's father steps in. Charles grabs at the blankets, covering himself. 

“What the devil is this? Charles? The morning is half gone. Get some clothes on, and get your lazy, childish ass out of bed. Your aunt and uncle are coming for tea. Do not be late.”

“Yes sir.” Charles mumbles. 

His father goes out and Charles falls back against the pillows with a sigh of relief. 

Erik pokes his head out from under the bed. “That was close.”

“Get out.” Charles repeats tiredly. 

Erik leans on the bed, looking at him. Reaching out a hand, he brushes the hair back from Charles's forehead. “You're safe, Charles.”

Charles wants to lean into that touch, to pull Erik back on the bed and return to what they were doing before his father interrupted them. Instead he sits up. “You should go.” He sits there, awkwardly while Erik starts to get dressed. “And, Erik, remember...”

Erik pauses in buttoning his shirt.“What?”

“Don't call me Charles in public.”

Erik grins. “I'll remember that, sir.” 

Charles grins back in spite of himself. 

* * *

Charles has no time for his usual morning ride. His father keeps him busy, going over paperwork at the house, and then overseeing the gardener's work some more before their visitors arrive that afternoon for tea. 

Charles is already in the sitting room when he hears a noise at the window. He looks up to see Erik climbing through the window.

“You shouldn't be in here!” Charles hisses. He can't help glancing worriedly at the door. The visitors will be here any minute, and the last thing he needs is for them walk in on Erik in the sitting room. 

“Afraid I'll soil the lace tablecloth, are we?” Erik raises an eyebrow. “I just wanted...” He hesitates. 

“Look, just.” Charles freezes as footsteps approach. “Quick, hide.” 

Erik looks at the window, but the gardener's out there now, making his way across the lawn. If Erik climbs out, he'll be seen, no doubt about it. 

“Under the table!” Charles hisses desperately. 

Erik doesn't blink as he ducks under the tablecloth. Fortunately it's long enough to hide him. Charles breathes a nervous sigh of relief, even as he tenses up again as his father enters with their guests, his aunt and uncle. 

“Charles, you're looking well.” 

Charles smiles dutifully as his aunt kisses him on the cheek. 

They take their seats around the table, chatting about the upcoming hunt. It isn't until Charles is reaching for his tea that he feels it. Erik's rubbing his thumb along the inside of Charles's thigh. 

“Oh, god,” Charles murmurs under his breath.

His aunt looks at him quizzically, “I beg your pardon, Charles.”

Charles smiles at her weakly. “Apologies.” He's going to kill Erik as soon as tea is over. 

Only the stable hand doesn't stop there. He rubs his knuckles teasingly over the growing bulge in Charles's trousers. Charles's fingers clench, crumbling the piece of shortbread he was holding. 

“Charles, Charles, you're all thumbs today.” His aunt chides him. 

Charles coughs, “Yes. Thumbs.” He reaches nervously for his tea. Which is right when Erik presses his mouth to the front of his trousers and _sucks_ him straight through the material. 

“Oh, jesus christ.” Charles mumbles into his tea, coughing. Erik's mouth is moving wickedly upon him and he wants to groan with the pressure rising in his balls. If he comes right here at the table, everyone will notice, won't they?

“Charles, if you can't behave, you will have to leave the table.”

“Unthinkable.” Charles murmurs, resisting the urge to just grind into the mouth on his crotch. 

“I beg your pardon?” Lord Xavier stares at his son incredulously. 

“Sorry, sir. It's just I'd hate to miss Aunt and Uncle's visit.” Charles smiles weakly. He's doing his best not to shudder. Erik is licking him through his trousers. He's never going to be able to stand up again. This is the worst tea ever. Erik's basically torturing him, his hands on Charles's thighs, while he sucks wetly at Charles's trousers. It's a wonder the whole table can't hear him.

Charles is going to come any minute, as his aunt pours tea and passes more cream buns. He digs his hands into his thighs, then reaches out blindly to grab at Erik's hair. He tugs it, as roughly as he can without drawing attention to the movement. Erik just moves faster, sucking at his cock. 

Charles coughs into his tea as he comes, doing his best to disguise his groan. 

Erik is going to pay for this.

* * *

 

As as soon as tea is over, Charles tracks Erik down in the stable. “What the hell was that about?”

Erik leans back against the wall, looking quite pleased with himself. “You wanted it.” His eyes dare Charles to deny it. 

“And what would have happened if you'd been discovered?” Charles hisses. 

“They'd all know how much you like having your cock sucked by a servant.” Erik smirks. 

Charles just pushes him against the wall, kissing him hard until Erik's flat against the wall, hands clenched in Charles's shirt, drawing him close. They kiss, rough and hot and needy, until there is no breath left in their body. 

Charles knows he looks a proper mess when they finally break apart panting. Knows he should return to the house, that his aunt and uncle will be leaving soon, he really should be joining them for a stroll around the garden. Instead he pushes at Erik's shoulders, pushing him to his knees. “Do it properly now.”

Erik grins as he opens his trousers, drawing out Charles's cock, already hard again, eager at the thought of having Erik's mouth on him. The stable hand's lips are soft and warm on his cock as he teases Charles's head. Charles groans, leaning back against the stable wall, his hands in Erik's hair, urging him on. 

“Just like that. Yes, oh _god_ , yes.” 

Erik's humming contentedly around his cock, hands slipping round to rest on Charles's ass, pulling him closer until his nose is buried in Charles's pubic hair. His teeth graze carefully along the curve of Charles's cock, making him hiss with pleasure. 

Just looking down at the sight of Erik's lips wrapped around his cock is enough to send Charles over the edge, even without the added sensation of his mouth. Oh god, Erik's mouth, the heat of it, pressing closer over his cock, making Charles's balls ache. His fingers tighten in Erik's hair, forcing him to go faster. 

“Come on, come on.” He fucks Erik's mouth until he comes finally, streaming down his throat. Erik holds him in his mouth until his cock stops thrusting, his hips slowing at last. 

When Charles slips out of Erik's mouth, the last few drops of come dribble over his lips. Erik raises a hand to wipe his mouth, but Charles is faster. He pulls Erik up by the hair. 

“Ow.”

“Shut it.” Charles murmurs as he leans in to taste himself on Erik's lips. 

Erik kisses him back messily, tongue and teeth and come. He's hard against Charles's thigh. Without a second thought, Charles reaches down to unfasten his trousers. Erik breathes a murmur of half surprise, half pleasure as Charles strokes him lazily, as his mouth lingers on Erik's, never tiring of the taste of himself on Erik's tongue.


	11. Chapter 11

There's one more day before they have to depart for Shaw's country estate. Charles wastes the morning trying to think of possible excuses to get out of being married off to the man's daughter (he doesn't care how well she can ride) and coming up with absolutely nothing convincing. There is nothing that is going to work on his father. He's doomed. 

He tells himself that this is his excuse for going to find Erik, but the truth of the matter is he no longer needs an excuse and deep down he knows this. 

Erik's sitting on a bench in the courtyard, mending a saddle. He looks up as Charles approaches, but doesn't speak.

“Meet me in the orchard.” Charles tells Erik, who just nods. There's something off about the stablehand's expression. He looks...dissatisfied, as though it pains him to look at Charles. Charles considers this as he goes the long way around the house to reach the orchard. 

“What is it?” Charles demands when he finds Erik pacing beneath the apple trees. 

“You think you can purchase anything you damn want, don't you?” Erik sneers at him coldly. “That all you have to do is show some coin and it's yours.”

Considering Charles has never offered Erik money, he thinks this is a bit rich. “And you think you can say whatever you like,” Charles retorts. “The world doesn't work like that.”

“What do I care for the rules of the world?” Erik says bitterly. “Those rules say I must bow my head when my _betters_ pass, do what I'm told, take what I'm given, be _grateful_.” Each harsh word makes Charles flinch. This isn't what he came for. Why does Erik have to ruin everything?

“Perhaps you should be grateful.” Charles starts. 

Erik's hands are on his wrists before he can speak any more, holding him tightly, pressing him down into the grass. Charles struggles but Erik is stronger, holding him in place. He climbs atop Charles, straddling him tightly. Charles thrashes under him, but Erik slaps him. The blow shocks Charles into anger. He punches Erik hard in the stomach and Erik reels backward. 

They wrestle across the grass, grappling for a hold on each other. Erik's hands pull at Charles's body roughly. “You want it.”

“Shut your mouth.” Charles says helplessly. But the man is right. He does want it. 

Erik grinds against him, biting at his lip. “You want it, but you're ashamed of me, ashamed of wanting to fuck a man like me, a man that you consider beneath you.” He grinds harder, forcing Charles to cry out. 

“What does it matter?” Charles gasps. “It's not like you're any fonder of my position than you are of mine.” He knows Erik thinks he's a spoiled rich arsehole. He can see it in the man's eyes. 

“You're right, it doesn't matter.” Erik moves off Charles, only to keep him pinned between his legs as he works Charles's trousers down.

“What're you doing?” Charles struggles. 

“Hold still.” Erik slaps his ass. It's an awkward angle, but he makes it sting. Charles wiggles but Erik has him firmly trapped as he smacks him again, and again and again. Charles yelps as the pain starts spreading over the skin.

“How dare you!” 

Erik only smacks him harder, the flat of his hand making Charles rock forward. Erik repeats it, until Charles is no longer squirming, and his ass is rosy red. He's too sore to move, there are tears in his eyes. Erik licks his fingers before sliding them between Charles's sore cheeks. 

“Gahhh,” Charles winces as Erik rubs his forefinger over his hole. “Erik.”

“Shh.” Erik strokes his hole until Charles's head has sunk down to rest on his arms, his ass practically in the air, begging for Erik to fuck him. 

“Erik.” Charles whimpers

Erik widens his fingers, stretching him. Charles keens as Erik pulls his fingers out, only to replace it with his thumb, pushing in thickly. 

_God_ , what he must look like, as Erik works his thumb in his ass...Charles bites his lip to keep from begging. It would be so easy. He's never been more humiliated in his life, but there's no way he's going to tell Erik to stop.

Erik pulls his thumb out, leans in and _spits_ right on Charles's hole. While he's still trying to fathom that, this servant who apparently thinks he has the right to _spit_ on him, Erik presses his cock to Charles's entrance, thrusting in easily. It burns and Charles wants to pull away. Erik pulls at Charles's hips, working him back on his cock until it's buried in Charles's ass “There you go. Just like that. Now fuck yourself on my cock.”

“ _Erik_.”

“Do it.” Erik slaps his ass again, a reminder of what he's already done to Charles. Shakily, Charles pushes himself up on his hands, jerking his hips backward. It hurts, but oh god, it feels like heaven too. Erik is rubbing his hands over Charles's ass, squeezing and stroking the reddened skin. 

“You're going to think of me, that whole long ride over to Shaw's house. And during the hunt. That's all you'll be able to think about. How I took you out here for anyone to see.”

Charles groans as he comes helplessly over the grass without Erik even touching him. Erik just keeps palming his ass. The fire's not subsiding, and then, _christ_ , Erik comes inside him, filling him, making Charles shudder all over as he collapses in the grass. 

He's a fucking mess, covered in shame and come. 

Erik's hand strokes along his spine soothingly. “You're a right pretty picture like this, you know that?”

“Be quiet.” Charles mutters. 

Erik's hand stills. Then there's the softest breath of a sigh, and Erik pulls out of him, leaving a trail of come seeping out Charles. Charles knows he should get up, clean himself off and leave. Instead he lies there, half naked in the grass, wondering how on earth he came to this.


	12. Chapter 12

The journey to Shaw's sizable country estate is long and subdued. Charles is still smarting from the way Erik touched him yesterday. Even now the memory of the way the man treated him makes him both resentful and hard. Fortunately, he's in the carriage, instead of stuck on a horse. 

Unfortunately, he's stuck in a carriage with his father, his aunt and his uncle. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Charles can catch sight of Erik riding one of the horses they're bringing along for the hunt, leading the other horse behind. Erik rides well, his form is good. No one would ever assume he was a servant, save for the clothes on his back. Charles is easily lulled into a lazy daydream remembering how Erik looks without those very clothes. 

It's a hot, dry afternoon. All three of his carriage companions are asleep in the drowsy heat of the afternoon. Charles would love to fall asleep, but he's too agitated, too frustrated with everything. The way he's treated Erik, the way Erik's treated him, this damn situation they appear to be stuck in. Erik rides closer to the carriage and Charles leans slightly to the side so he can still watch him. Erik catches sight of the movement and looks straight at him. 

For a moment they just look at each other, and then, right there in broad daylight, Erik reaches down and cups himself brazenly through his trousers. Charles's mouth drops open; he swallows dryly, staring hungrily at the man. Erik holds his gaze, as he sticks his hand down his trousers. Charles groans silently at the sight. Erik's just riding along, stroking himself off and practically daring Charles to do the same. 

Well...why not? 

Everyone in the carriage is asleep and...he's harder than he's ever been just from watching Erik. Slowly, biting his lip to keep himself from daring to make a sound, Charles undoes the buttons on his trousers. They pop free silently and he breathes a sigh of relief as his hand eases down into his drawers. Christ, it feels so good to touch himself. To look out the window of the carriage and watch Erik as he works his own cock. 

Erik rides even closer to the carriage so that Charles can watch the way his hand moves, how slowly he's going, pacing himself. Charles does the same, his eyes locked on Erik's as he works his thumb over the slit of his leaking cock. Damn, he's going to have a stain on his trousers. 

The carriage hits a dip in the road and Charles freezes, as his father coughs and shifts position, without opening his eyes at all. If the man opens his eyes, he's going to be horsewhipped within an inch of his life for behaving so indecently in public. In front of his relatives, no less! 

Erik's smirking at him through the window. On a whim, Charles sticks his tongue out at him. Erik stares at him in surprise, and then buries his mouth in the crook of his free arm while he laughs silently. Just the sight of Erik laughing sends thrills over Charles's skin. His balls tighten involuntarily and he claps a hand over his mouth as he comes violently, struggling not to make a sound. 

Charles just leans back in his seat, exhausted while Erik leans forward in his saddle as he comes, his hand moving frantically in his trousers. The stablehand's face is obscenely beautiful as he exhales silently. Charles wants to kiss him more than anything, wants to leap out of the carriage and fling himself into Erik's arms....

...which is a ridiculous notion and something he will never ever do, obviously. 

But he wants to do all the same. 

Even more so when Erik simply lifts his hand to his lips and licks the come off his palm. Charles groans silently as he watches the man tease him further, laving at his skin like a cat with a bowl of cream. This carriage ride is going to be the death of him.

* * *

At last they arrived at Shaw's country house. Charles has never been more glad to see the ostentatious building in his life. In fact, he's never been relieved to see it before. This is a first. He cricks his neck as he steps down from the carriage and looks around. 

Erik is standing there, holding the reins of the horses. He glances at Charles; Charles looks away immediately. 

“Charles.” His aunt taps him on the shoulder. “Kindly tell the man that he better take good care of my bags. I don't want my hats crushed.”

“Yes, aunt.” Charles manages a smile, that vanishes as soon as he turns round to face Erik. 

“I take it I'm supposed to be careful with the bags.” Erik murmurs. 

“You take it correctly.” Charles pauses awkwardly. “Er...” He wants to drag Erik off into the stables right now. He wants to know the man still isn't angry with him. He wants...Erik.

“So...where should I take these?” Erik looks down at the bags.

“I'll show you.” Charles murmurs. 

“Very good, sir.” There's a very small smile starting at the corners of Erik's lips. 

Charles can feel Erik's eyes on his body as he leads the way down the hall. He knows exactly what Erik is thinking. He knows it's insane, and yet, he can't help wanting the same thing. 

So as soon as Erik has set the bags down in his room, Charles turns to press him up against the wall. “Now.”

“Now.” Erik leans back against the wall. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”

“Absolutely.” Charles kisses him fervently. Erik's lips are fresh and warm and god, does he need them everywhere. His hands are on Erik's ass, pulling him closer, letting their groins grind closer together. 

“Where do you need it, sir?” Erik nips at his ear, his teeth sharp and piercing. 

“Everywhere.” Charles moans. 

Erik grins and pushes him back toward the bed. “I'm going to need you to be more specific, sir.”

“I want you. Your cock, in me. On me. Your lips. Everywhere. Fuck, Erik.”

“Good enough.” Erik pushes him onto the bed and straddles him. “I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll think of me during every single second of your fine and fancy hunt tomorrow.”

“Do it.” Charles arches up to kiss him. 

Erik's hard against him, cradling the back of his neck to kiss Charles more deeper, his mouth probing deeper into Charles's. Charles is achingly hard. All he wants is for the man to undo his trousers and take him in his mouth. He's certain they're both thinking the same thing when Erik's hand cups him.

“You,” he breathes against Erik's lips. 

“Well, Charles...this is frankly shocking.”

Charles freezes. When he looks up, Emma, Shaw's ward and his almost-fiancee (according to his father) is standing there in the doorway, watching them. Her expression is amused...and he is well and truly fucked.


	13. Chapter 13

Emma closes the door behind her and smiles at them. “Well, isn't this delightful?” Her eyes sweep over their entangled forms, Charles's tousled hair, flushed cheeks...

“Emma.” Charles pushes Erik off him hastily. “You...” What the devil is he supposed to do now? “You should go.” He mutters to Erik, who nods.

“Oh, not just yet.” Emma just leans against the door. “The way I see it, Charles, we are presented with a few choices.”

Erik simply stands there watching them. He knows as well as Charles that she could destroy them with a single word. 

“Emma.” 

“I could tell our fathers and that would end very unpleasantly for you.” She glances at Erik. “For you...and your servant, I imagine. He's...a footman?”

“Stable hand.” Charles's throat is dry.

“Oh, Charles.” Emma laughs. “Even better.” 

“Just precisely what will it take for you _not_ to tell, my lady?” Erik breaks in.

Emma looks at him in surprise. “Articulate too. Will wonders never cease...”

“Enough,” Charles says testily. “What do you want, Emma?”

“I think,” Emma moves to sit in the armchair opposite the bed. “That if I'm to marry you, Charles, as they seem to be suggesting...I have every right to observe your...performance beforehand.” 

“That...is not how it's done.” Charles can barely get the words out. He doesn't dare look at Erik for fear of what the man is thinking. If only Charles could read his mind. Not that he would. Such a thing would be an invasion of the man's privacy, but all the same, Charles wishes he could just _know_.

“Come, come, Charles. If you're shy...or embarrassed,” Emma's eyes fairly glitter with amusement. “I'm perfectly willing to watch you being fucked by him.”

“ _Emma!_ ”

Now he _has_ to look at Erik, to try and take a stab at wondering what's going through the man's mind. Erik is remote as ever. But there's something there in his cool eyes. Something that makes Charles shiver with fear and lust.

“What do you say, Charles?” Emma drawls languidly. “If you don't, I'll simply have to tell my father, and yours, that I saw you coupling with another man. And a servant, no less.”

Charles closes his eyes. He knows perfectly well what would happen then. “Please, Emma.” 

“Is it so hard to be penetrated by him? I'm sure you've done it before. You _have_ , haven't you? I can tell. Go on then.” She nods at Erik. “Bend him over the back of the bed.”

Erik raises an eyebrow. “You don't want him on the carpet on all fours?” His tone verges on mocking.

“As tempting as that is,” Emma shakes her head, “No, the back of the bed will suffice. Come on, Charles. It's almost tea time.”

* * *

There is no end to the humiliation. Charles sighs and undoes his trousers. He barely has them unfastened before Erik seizes his arms, pushing him over the bed.

“Hands on the footrest,” he commands, bending Charles forward, pulling his trousers down around his knees. “Come on.”

“Erik,” Charles murmurs, but the man simply puts a hand on his neck and pushes him over so that his ass is in perfect view of the armchair Emma's perched in. Charles's hands tighten on the bed rail. Surely the man isn't going to...

“As much as I'd like to see you take him dry, he does have to be able to ride tomorrow. There's oil in the cabinet.” Emma points one slender finger. 

It's barely a moment before Erik's slicked fingers breech his entrance and Charles does his best not to cry out. Despite the oil, it's still too fast, too hard, but Erik's moving quickly, fucking him brutally with his fingers until Charles can't contain his moans any longer. His hips jolt awkwardly against the bed frame. Then, Erik withdraws his fingers and lines up his cock, the blunt head just resting at Charles's hole. He doesn't begin thrusting though and Charles starts to raise his head when he hears Emma's order, “Now.”

And Erik begins to fuck him. Steadily. At _her_ command. Charles's face burns. 

As humiliated as he is, Charles can't contain a groan of pleasure as Erik fucks him steadily. It's slow and measured. Erik's fingers close on his ass as he pulls out, but before either Emma (or Charles) can protest he simply spreads Charles even wider as he thrusts back in. 

“Oh, god.” Charles grabs at the sheets.

Emma watches avidly. “Harder.”

Erik grits his teeth, adjusting himself so that his grip jolts Charles harder over the bed frame with each thrust. Charles's own cock is rubbed mercilessly into the wooden frame as Erik fucks him. He whimpers in spite of himself with the motion.

Emma sits back, crossing her legs languidly. “You can do better than that.”

Erik pulls out again, glaring at her, before he pulls Charles up onto the bed on his hands and knees and enters him again. As he fucks Charles, his hand reaches around to tug sharply on Charles's right nipple. Charles groans, arching into the motion. Erik is filling him, making Charles's ass strain around his cock as as he tortures Charles's nipples until Charles is bent over, begging for it desperately. 

“Erik, please, please, Erik. _Erik_.”

Erik looks at Emma questioningly. 

“Not yet.”

Charles groans in frustration. It only grows worse when Erik licks his fingers, spitting into his palm and running his hand over Charles's cock. It's torture, the wet heat of Erik's grasp sliding over him, just tight enough for Charles to arch into. He thrusts feverishly into Erik's fist, as Erik moves his hand slower and slower. He does this until Charles is keening desperately as he fucks Erik's hand. 

“Please, Erik.” 

Erik looks again at Emma, and this time she nods her consent. He speeds ups his thrusts as he strokes Charles off. Charles shudders into his grasp, clutching the sheets so tight, his knuckles are white. 

When he comes, he can feel the bed shake around them. Charles closes his eyes as Erik's come fills him. He's limp and wrung out. As uncomfortable as this position is, he doesn't want to move. No, he simply wants to stay right here, with the sweat drying on the back of his neck and Erik deep inside him.

* * *

“Well,” Emma uncrosses her legs. “That was invigorating.” 

Erik steps back, slipping out of Charles far more quickly than Charles cares for. He straightens, up, reaching for his trousers. Emma just watches them as they tidy themselves. 

“Shall we go down to tea?” Charles says with as much composure as he can muster. 

“My pleasure.” She extends her hand, looking back over her shoulder at Erik. “You should probably go down the back staircase. Don't get comfortable in the stable,” She smirks at him. “I'm sure he'll have need of you again soon.”

“My lady.” Erik bows his head. 

He goes one way down the hall while they go down the other. At the turn in the corridor, Charles looks back to see Erik at the top of the stairs. The man nods to him, and then disappears. 

“You're far more interesting than I gave you credit for, Charles.” Emma murmurs. “I wouldn't have thought you'd ever risk being discovered with a stable-hand.”

“In all honesty, neither did I.” Charles responds. 

“I can tell he's worth the risk.” Emma laughs lightly, and Charles can't help smiling. 

He escorts her into the tea room, almost sad to relinquish her to her seat and take his own on the other side of the table.

After the exertions of the journey to the estate and then the exhibition with Emma, the conversation at tea is quite dull. Charles almost could have fallen asleep again, save for the soreness in his ass. Every time he shifts in his seat, Emma smirks knowingly at him. Charles shifts again and winces. His father and Shaw are deep in conversation and it's strange, but even though he knows what they're plotting, he's not dreading it as much as he was before. 

Emma knows his darkest secret, and while this should be cause for concern, Charles is only oddly relieved. Their encounters have always been a match of wits, but never maliciously. He remembers when they were younger, how Emma had always dreamed of going to university. She certainly deserved to go as much as he did. Charles wondered how much she must hate her guardian for denying her studious pursuits, not to mention Charles himself for being allowed to do exactly that. Yet when he gaze across the table at her, Charles can't find any sense of hatred. Only amusement lingers in Emma's eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

It's not until early evening that Charles can slip away. The ladies are in the drawing room, and the gentlemen are playing billiards. He will be missed eventually, but he has to see Erik tonight. 

Erik's loitering at the gate of the lower garden, as though he knew where Charles would come. He's smoking, the cigarette dangling between his lips reminding Charles all too well of that first true encounter. 

“So you came then.”

“Yes.” Charles stands there on the path awkwardly. He half wants to apologize for what happened earlier, and half wants to threaten Erik to make sure he'll never tell anyone. 

“Wasn't sure you would.” Erik takes a long drag on his cigarette and blows a smoke ring above their heads. 

“I wanted...” Charles bites his lip. “About earlier...”

“She's to be your wife, I hear tell.” Erik observes.

“A man could marry a worse one.” Charles tells him haughtily. It's true. Emma's intelligent and witty, and beautiful. More than a match for him in every capacity. 

Erik's looking at him though, with that knowing look. “You don't want a wife.” He tosses the cigarette away. 

“Oh?” Charles waits for whatever nonsense the man's about to speak. 

“You want me.” Erik's hands slide down to rest on his hips, holding him, not lewdly, not tightly, not...anything, just holding him. His warm fingers feel good on Charles's skin, and he wants this to last. Whatever it is.

“Yes,” he breathes at last. “I do want you.” 

Erik's hands tighten on him, pulling him closer. “I want you too.” He kisses Charles then, one hand slipping up to cup the back of Charles's head. It's a long, lingering, devouring kiss that leaves Charles breathless and confused. 

“Erik.” 

Erik says nothing, simply presses him back against the garden wall, sucking hungrily at Charles's neck. His mouth claims Charles's skin, until Charles is moaning, arching up against him. As sore as he is from this morning, he desperately wants to be with Erik again. Here. Now. Anywhere. It doesn't matter as long as it's _now_.

“I want you.” He bites at Erik's neck. 

Erik pulls back a moment, studying him, then nods. “Come on. The carriage house'll be empty.” He takes Charles's hand and leads him through the gate. 

There are servants everywhere on an estate this size, but somehow they manage to avoid them. Erik leads Charles into the carriage house and props the door shut with a crate. Then he turns and grins at Charles. 

“Take your pick.”

There's an array of carriages to choose from. Something with a top, would be most prudent, in case anyone did walk in. But Charles is feeling adventurous and the chaise, well, it suits his purposes better. He strides over to it and waits for Erik to join him.

“What'd you have in mind, then?” Erik's hands snake around to rest on his ass. “I'd wager you're still sore after earlier, eh?”

“You're not wrong.” Charles admits. And he still has to be able to ride tomorrow in the hunt, dammit. That doesn't stop him from turning around to draw Erik into a kiss. Christ, the man's mouth feels so good upon his own, his tongue mating with Charles's. 

“Come on.” Charles says, a tad breathless and impatient, pulling Erik up into the chaise. 

“What're you on about?” Erik inquires, but stretches out nonetheless. 

Charles merely unfastens his trousers and stretches out atop him. “There.”

Erik gets the idea when Charles turns his attention to the bulge in his trousers. “You're full of surprises, you are.”

“I try.” Charles murmurs, undoing Erik's trousers and drawing him out. The man chooses that moment to lick across the head of Charles's cock, making Charles inhale sharply. Erik takes him all the way in and Charles manages not to thrust immediately into that wondrous mouth. Instead, he turns back to Erik's own cock. Wrapping his hand around the shaft, he takes only the tip in his mouth, teasing it with his lips. 

Erik groans around his cock, sending a rush of heat straight through Charles's body. The way this man makes him feel. The things he does to Charles; the things he makes Charles wants to do. It's astounding. It's scandalous. It's _dangerous_. 

Charles simply takes him deeper, until his nose is buried in Erik's pubic hair. He can feel Erik shifting slightly, altering his own hold on Charles's cock. And then they're moving, slowly, thrusting into each other's mouths. Charles clutches at Erik's ass, trying to hold him as close as possible. Almost as though he's trying to devour the other man's shaft. Erik pulls off to lick down Charles's length as his fingertip teases the vein underneath. 

“Come for me, Charles,” He half croons the words, making them sound so soft and sweet, what can Charles do but surrender to him? Erik has his tongue wrapped around him just in time, dragging every last drop out of him as Charles comes down his throat. He can feel Erik groaning, as he swallows, and that's the only warning he gets before the stable-hand follows him. Charles swallows his come down, as Erik licks lazily at his cock. Rather like a cat, Charles thinks lazily. He lets the other man's shaft slip from between his lips slowly, before crawling up to lie against Erik. 

Erik doesn't say a word now, simply cups his chin and leans down to kiss him, tasting himself on Charles's tongue. Their spent cocks lay against each other contentedly. Charles lets his tongue trail leisurely over Erik's, not wanting to break this moment. Each time, it's getting harder to part from the other man. 

It shouldn't be like this. He shouldn't be getting attached. Charles frowns to himself. Erik pulls back a little, studying him. 

“What?”

“Do you want me?” Charles asks. The question comes a trifle shyly. He hadn't meant to ask it straight out. He hadn't meant to ask it at all, and yet there it was.

“I wouldn't be here lying cock-to-cock with you if I didn't.” Erik drawls in amusement. 

“Don't...” Charles hesitates. Even now he can feel the heat rising between them again as Erik rubs against him gently. “Don't make light of this.”

Erik arches an eyebrow at him. “Don't make light of a gentleman taking his ease with a servant? What am I to make of it then?”

“What do you want to make of it?” Charles returns. His heart is beating faster in his chest. 

“This.” Erik pulls Charles fully on top of him, groins flush against each other. His hands rest on Charles's ass, palming each cheek, stroking him. “I want you. At night when I lie awake above the stables, I take myself in hand and think of you. When I see you striding about the estate, I want to drag you by your fancy coat off into the bushes and make you beg for it. I want...” His hands still for a moment and they lie there, warm on Charles's skin. “I want you to wake beside me some morning, and not have to rush off in fear that someone will discover us.”

There's something in Erik's eyes that makes Charles's throat tighten. He leans down to kiss the other man. “I want that too.” 

“But you're marrying Lord Shaw's ward.” Erik murmurs against his lips.

“Something tells me, Emma won't exactly have a problem with our arrangement.” Charles teases his lower lip. 

“Maybe so.” Erik acknowledges. “Still...” 

He doesn't say any more. And for now Charles doesn't want him to. There have been enough confessions for one night. For now, it's enough to rest his head against Erik's chest, and his cock against Erik's.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first "new" update in ages.

Charles awakens slowly on the morning of the hunt. His body feels slow and utterly relaxed. For a moment, he imagines Erik lying beside him, naked beneath the sheets. Then he pushes the image aside and sits up. Yesterday was a pleasant fantasy. Today was the reality where he'd have to be among his father and his companions, his own society.

He gets dressed and joins the hunting party just in time. Emma looks resplendent as usual. She gives him a private smile, and Charles feels slightly smug, though he's not sure why. Finally, amongst the bright red hunting jackets, he spots Erik leading a pair of horses down the avenue. Charles is unable to turn away, his eyes complete focused on the stable hand. He can't help it, thinking of what they shared last night. How they feel together. Erik is a marvelous, remarkable being, and Charles wants...

That's the whole trouble, really. Charles _wants_.

Erik brings his horse over to him. “Here you go, my lord.”

“Thank you, Erik.” Charles brushes against him as he moves to mount the horse.

Erik can't help smiling slightly. “Good luck in the hunt.”

Charles looks down at him in surprise. For a moment they stare at each other. Charles's breath quickens; he can barely breathe. Erik's simply smiling up at him in the late morning sunlight. The whole moment is a beautiful occasion. 

“Erik.” He wants to say more, to remind the man of last night, but he can tell the rest of the company is ready to begin, so he holds off. The hunting party is ready to head out. 

The hunting horn blows, and they start. Charles digs his heels into his horse's flanks and they're off. 

The hunt takes them across the fields, and through the fields. Charles is riding, barely aware of anything else in the world. It's almost a relief to have this quiet take over his mind. No thoughts of his father, his future, his education, his hopes, dreams, impending marriage, Erik... It all falls away and Charles simply _is_.

* * *

The grooms are waiting at the halfway point with fresh horses. Charles dismounts quickly, but stops to take the handkerchief Erik offers him to wipe the sweat from his face. He's breathing heavily, lost in exhilaration. Erik's staring at him like he's never seen him before and Charles wants to kiss him, freezing that look in his eyes forever. His hand lingers on Erik's as he hands the handkerchief back. There's a slight smile hinting at the corner of Erik's lips. 

“You ride beautifully, Charles.” He murmurs under his breath.

“I'd rather be fucking you.” Charles whispers back. Hearing his name on Erik's lips is a quiet pleasure. 

“I'll bet.”

“Charles!”

Charles jerks his head upward. His father is already mounted on a fresh horse. The man is glaring at him. “Mount up, boy!”

“Yes, sir.” Charles mutters. 

“Later.” Erik promises, as he holds the reins. Charles gives him a quick nod, and then they're off again. 

* * * 

Emma comes in first at the kill, which Charles doesn't mind, except he has to hear about it from his father all the way back to the house.

His father's still at it when they reach the stables, drawing Charles aside to berate him further.

“It's quite clear you should spend more time practicing your riding and last time with your nose stuck in those damn books!” Lord Xavier hisses, his face reddened with anger. “You're a disgrace, Charles. An utter disappointment. It's a wonder Shaw will still marry you to his ward at all. As for you, you should be damned grateful such a woman will even consider you.” He stalks off. 

Charles doesn't move. He knows it doesn't matter, not really. His father's words simply wash over him. He feels almost cold, though he's still half standing in the midday sun.

“Charles.” Erik's there, taking the reins from his hand. 

“You heard all of that, I suppose.” Charles says stiffly. 

Erik hesitates, then nods. “He doesn't know anything, Charles.” He moves in, too close for propriety, but Charles doesn't care. He wants the warmth of Erik's body. “You ride like a young god.”

At that Charles laughs, but he's still touched by the sentiment, and there's a look in Erik's eye. A look that's almost tender. 

“Here.” Erik nods at him. “Come with me.” He hands the horse's reins off to another stable-boy, with the strict instructions for the beast to get the proper rubdown. Then he leads Charles down the row of stalls and out the back door into the sun. 

Erik leads Charles down the path to a lower garden and there, sits the abandoned summerhouse that Charles dimly remembers from a childhood visit. He recalls Emma hiding here during a game of hide-and-seek. It took him ages to find her. Now it's half covered in ivy and cobwebs, a chair overturned beside the stone table. The floor is covered with dried leaves.

“How did you find this place?” Charles asks.

“I went for a walk.” Erik draws him up the steps and turns to face him, his hand still on Charles's wrist. “I thought it looked like a good place to kiss someone.”

“Oh?” Charles smiles. 

“Yes.” Erik leans in, brushing his lips across Charles's. His lips are warm, drawing Charles in. His hands slide around Erik's body, pulling him closer. Erik's got one hand on his backside and the other tangled in Charles's hair as he kisses Charles. He tugs lightly on Charles's lower lip with his teeth, teasing him. Charles forgets about everything. There is only Erik's delightful mouth, Erik's tongue torturing him in the most sensuous fashion.


End file.
